Popeye the Invader
by Barsonia
Summary: The unification of pirate hoards by a mysterious and muscular sailor ends up being the ultimate threat of Arendelle. Now more than ever, the Kingdom is desperate for strong leadership. Unfortunately, the only leadership available is that of a clumsy and overly-optimistic red-haired girl.
1. Chapter 1

The lights of the city called out to the fleet like distant beacons. The sails blew in the calm breeze as they made their way under moonlight. The gentle rocking nearly lulled the First Mate to sleep, but he was kept awake by the snoring of those in the crew's quarters. He watched the lights get slightly closer every little while as he drank his rum and smoked his pipe. In every sense of the word, this was the calm before the storm. They were almost there.

He hummed the tunes of his favorite songs in a drunken half-asleep stupor. He gripped his flintlock pistol tightly to make sure he was still in possession of it. He was ready for this. He was ready for anything.

"We're gonna take it faster than we ever taken anything before, y'know," came a voice, and and he didn't need to turn around to know that it was the captain. The First Mate merely nodded in acquiescence.

Popeye stepped forward along the creaking boards until he was standing side-by-side with his subordinate. He was significantly taller and much more muscular than the second-in-command. "I hear them princesses is some pretty little ladies," he continued, ignoring the other man's obvious lack of desire for conversation.

"I wonder if they're as kind as they are beautiful." The First Mate muttered in his raspy, monotonous voice. To this, Popeye gave an uproarious laugh that nearly woke every crew member.

"They never are, Timothy! They never are! Way I see it, women can be fine-lookin', or they can be fine-talkin', but never both."

Timothy merely shrugged his shoulders in response.

The two stood in silence under the starry sky as the boat (and by extension, the fleet) came closer and closer every second. Arendelle was going to be theirs for the taking and they knew it.

…

Elsa sat on her bed watching the moon through the window of her room. She gave a content sight as she smiled. She had always had an inexplicable love for summer nights. There was something so peaceful and majestic about them. It was like the day was resting after a long and strenuous journey.

She rolled her eyes. Elsa had always had terrible habit of waxing poetically when she was tired and by herself. Of course, the solitude didn't last long, as, directly after this thought occurred to her, she heard a gentle tapping on her door.

"Elsa?" Her sister's voice whispered from the other side.

Elsa got up slowly, flattening her gown, before walking over to the door and opening it. Her sister stood, hair messy, eyes baggy, and clothes ruffled. From her puffy and red eyes, it was evident that she had been crying.

"What is it, Anna?" Elsa asked delicately in a concerned tone as she led her sister into the room and closed the door behind them.

Anna sniffled.

"I...I don't want to talk about it," she whispered in a shaky and abnormally high-pitched voice.

"Anna, if you didn't want to talk about it, you wouldn't be here right now," Elsa said in a flat response as she gestured for Anna to sit on the bed. When she complied, Elsa immediately sat net to her and wrapper her arm around her.

"So, tell me, what's wrong? What's going on?"

Anna rubbed what was left of the tears out of her eyes and sniffled again, before composing herself.

"It was a dream. I...had a dream." She said, with her voice relatively stable, but evidently ready to break at any moment.

Elsa had a blank faced for a moment, and then sighed with irritation as she tried to avoid getting angry with her sisters.

"You're this worried about a bad dream, Anna? Why?"

Anna paused for several seconds.

"You died," she whispered so quietly that Elsa barely heard her.

Elsa shook her head in disbelief.

"Anna, it was a **dream**! I'm obviously still alive and here. There's nothing to be worried abo-" she began.

"It wasn't like that!" Anna shouted with a glare, tears streaming down her face again. She then bowed her head as she started to shake and cry silently. Elsa just hugged her sister and didn't speak, waiting for Anna to explain herself.

"It..it was like a premonition. Like I was seeing into the future. I don't think it was just a dream, Elsa. It felt more real than any dream I've ever had before," she said, in between gasps and her attempts (and failures) to contain herself.

Elsa started to speak, but then realized that she had no idea how to respond. So the two sat quietly. And they sat quietly the entire night hugging each other.

Light began to pour in through the window as the sun rose gradually on the horizon. The two stirred from their mutual light sleeps. They both turned to look at the rising and watched it in a calm and pleasurable silence, unlike the uneasy and miserable silence that had overtaken them during the night.

Anna turned to her sister and the two locked eyes.

"Elsa, I'm sorry about last night. I really overreacted, an-"

Elsa started to cough. Anna waited politely, but the coughing didn't stop. Elsa held her mouth into her hand as she kept coughing uncontrollably.

"Elsa?" Anna asked as she tried to speak to her sister, who was still wheezing and exhaling without a pause, tears welling up in her eyes and muscles weakening. Anna stood up in a shock. Clearly something wasn't right.

"Elsa?!" Anna asked, this time sharper and more concerned, but her sister didn't seem to even notice her this point as she feel backward onto the bed, the coughing never stopping in pace or intensity. Anna quickly started for the door to get help, but before she got through the doorway, the fit stopped. She spun around nervously.

Elsa was taking deep, long breaths as she laid backward, visibly more relaxed. The coughing had stopped completely.

Anna felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She walked over to her sister in order to make sure she was fine, only to see something that she hadn't anticipated.

"Elsa?" Anna's nervous voice croaked.

"In a minute, Anna," Elsa said in between breaths.

"Elsa!"

Elsa sat up with irritation in order to see what her sister was so worked up about. She stopped herself when she caught site of something on the bedsheets.

Blood.

She looked up at Anna as worry and disbelief filled both pairs of eyes, before she summoned the courage to look down at her hands. They were as bloody as the sheets.

Anna slowly put a hand to Elsa's head. She was burning up and sweating profusely.

"Anna, g-get the doctor, please."

…

Elsa was seated in the wooden chair in a shocked state. She hadn't acknowledged the existence of anyone around her in hours.

_Deadly disease._

That was the phrase the doctor had used to describe her condition. He said that, based on similar cases he had seen, she had half a year left to live, at most.

Just then, an adviser burst through the door. "Hey, wait!" Anna's distant voice called, but the adviser was already spouting off information.

"Queen Elsa, I'm sorry to interrupt, but it seems we have a crisis," he said quickly as he bowed to Elsa.

"Now is not a good time." Elsa said calmly and flatly without turning to look at him, instead opting to stare blankly at a wall. Anna ran in just them, and grabbed the adviser's arm, while quickly trying to apologize to her sister.

"I'm so sorry Elsa, I tried to tell him to go away, but he just bolted past me. Come on, let's get you out of here," she said, tugging on the man's arm in a desperate attempt to get him to leave the room, but he planted his feet on the ground with a determined face.

"Queen, I truly am sorry, but I would not be here if this weren't of the utmost importance."

"Not a good time. Come back later." Elsa said through gritted teeth as she continued to focus on no particular feature of the plain wall.

Anna tried with all of her (non-impressive might) to pull the man out of the room, to no avail.

"Queen!" He said.

"What?!" Elsa shouted, as she turned her neck and shot a glare at the adviser with her rage-filled eyes burning into his.

Shocked, he took a moment to speak.

"There's a fleet heading towards us. We believe them to be invaders."

Elsa's glare vanished as she sank into the chair completely. Arendelle was in danger, which she considered to be infinitely more important than her own troubles.

"Invaders?" She repeated nearly-silently to herself, but his sharp ears caught it.

"Yes, invaders. Pirates, to be exact."


	2. Chapter 2

Popeye awoke from his dreamless sleep on the soft bed in his cabin. He never seemed to have dreams anymore. He simply went to sleep and woke up feeling tired and lightheaded. He occasionally considered consulting with the ship's doctor about this, but, considering that the rest of the crew slept in damp, crowded, stench-filled quarters, it seemed a tad insulting for him to complain about his own sleeping habits. He rubbed his unfocused eyes and practically fell out of the bed. He quickly undressed and put on his work clothes and boots. He looked at the half-filled bottle of rum on his bedside table and took a swig of it.

_Maybe that will make the day somewhat bearable, _he thought to himself with a bitter grin.

He opened one of his last cans of spinach and ate it as slow as he could afford. His passionate love for the food was one of his more peculiar characteristics, but he didn't care about that. Popeye was hungry and there was spinach, and, as far as he was concerned, the conclusion to those two observations was axiomatic.

After finishing, he stiffly stood up and took a deep breath. He always had to get into the exact 'Captain' mood to be able to go out to the deck and face the crew efficiently. He walked over to the door, grabbed the handle, and pushed it open. Something had to be done about its rusted hinges. The noises they were starting to make were nearly intolerable.

He was preparing for blinding sunlight to hurt his eyes, but he instead found a surprisingly dim deck outside awaiting him. It seemed he had awoken far earlier than he usually did. The sun was barely coming up over the horizon. He took in a deep breath of fresh air, and took his first step. Something felt very...right about the rocking floorboards of the deck. He felt at home on them. A very small grin appeared on his face, unnoticeable to anyone who didn't look for it. Popeye kept a very stern, authoritarian image while on deck in order to keep the crew in line. The only crew-member that he ever broke this image for was the ever-loyal Timothy, and that was only when there was no one else around.

He strode confidently along the deck, with the handful of crew-members who passed by quickly looking down and darting out of his way. He was internally amused by this, but showed absolutely no sign and instead just gave sharp glances and glares at them. Walking over to the ledge, he put his hand on the smooth wood and looked at the wonderful sunrise and the way that the multi-colored rays bounced off a sea that stretched endlessly away. He sighed and rested on the ledge.

The captain then felt some forceful push from behind, and fell off the ledge and into the water below.

Instantly, he was "greeted" by the cold water surrounding every inch of his body. It took a moment for him to adjust to his surrounding and get over the shocking temperature, but when he did, he attempted to swim upwards towards the surface.

However, he felt something dragging on his foot and pulling him down. He looked down to try and figure out what was happening, only to see a chain wrapped around his ankle.

A chain. He couldn't comprehend this observation, but that was the least of his worries, as the chain kept tugging him further and further down from the surface and he had little air left in his lungs. He desperately fought the chain in a madman's attempt to break it and set himself free, but it only pulled him more towards the dark abyss below.

The pressure increased greatly and the water was so dark that he could no longer see anything. His lungs about to burst and his face turning pale, Popeye gave up any hope of survival and merely resigned himself to his painful and slow death. However, the chain suddenly stopped pulling and the captain maintained his current depth. Still needing to breathe, though, he finally have up and opened up his mouth to find...oxygen?

He found himself perfectly capable of breathing. Underwater! This made absolutely no sense of course, and the man was dumbfounded. He had little time for introspection though, as suddenly a bright light formed several feet in front of him.

Getting brighter and brighter, Popeye soon had to close his eyes to avoid getting blinded by its radiance. But, then the light dimmed and as he opened his eyes, Popeye could make out a familiar figure in front of him. A figure that he did not expect and couldn't understand anymore than anything else that had happened to him in the past moments.

"Well, Popeye, ain't ya gonna say 'hello'?" The figure asked with a hearty laugh, and he sounded perfectly normal, as if he wasn't presently under the ocean. The man was transparent, and, even more interestingly, was the archetypal pirate. From his hat, to his clothing, to his hook for a hand, to his overly-long beard everything about him screamed, "bandit of the sea".

The familiarity wasn't due to any of that, though. Popeye had seen this man before. Mostly in paintings and crude sketches, but he had seen him. Captain Moore. The most infamous captain the world had ever recorded. Vicious to the bone and with enough ambition to topple the entirety of human civilization, he had traversed the seas for nearly forty years, killing, looting, and raping far more than any before or since.

"I...I don't know what to say," Popeye said, with his voice also being completely unmuffled and unaffected by the water.

Moore laughed once again.

"Well, that shouldn't be a problem, as I'm the only one that's got anything important to say in the first place. Listen, there's something about yourself that you don't know. Something important, y'hear? You've got something in yourself that no one else has. Something deep within your flesh and blood. You are here for a reason, Popeye. It is your destiny to conquer the entire world." Moore allowed that to sink in for a moment before continuing.

"Now, you've got a good start with all this Arendelle business, but you gotta start thinking **bigger! **Get organized. Get effective. If you're gonna do this thing and do it right, then you best begin to take it seriously! You think you've got what it takes? Then, start planning, and plan good, because what you're here to do is no easy feat!"

Popeye had no idea what to say. There were so many questions. However, the first one that came to mind and the first that he spat out was probably not the most logical or most pressing.

"Why...why me? What about me is special?" He asked, looking down, almost embarrassed to ask the question.

Captain Moore grinned.

"It's just the way things are."

Popeye's eyes shot open and he found himself on the hard deck floor on his side, gasping for air, and surrounded by several crew members.

"Are you alright, sir?" Timothy asked him frantically. Before he got a chance to answer, however, he found himself vomiting. The crew-members backed away to give him some space. Once finished, Popeye took a few quick breaths.

"What in the blazes 'appened to me?!"

"It seems like you had a seizure or something on deck, sir. You were convulsing something fierce," Timothy said quickly, not wanting to incur the wrath of a confused Popeye.

The captain was about to unleash a tirade of curses and scoldings, but then stopped. He was genuinely puzzled. He had never fallen into the water, then? Judging by his perfectly dry clothes, that seemed likely. Popeye momentarily reflected on the vision he had while unconscious, before firmly deciding on his next course of action.

"What are you all standing around fer?! We're almost there, last I checked, and do we look ready? This is the saddest lot I've ever seen in my whole life, and it'll be some kinda miracle if we manage to pull this off! GET TO WORK!"

And with that, the entire crew scrambled to obey the captain's commands, and instantly got to doing every large or small task that had to be done, all with nervous and skittish glances over their shoulders.

Popeye stood up confidently, embodying the very idea of authority. He slowly made his way over to the bow of the ship at a steady pace. Once there, he watched the water and the city getting closer and closer. The buildings were still far-off, but they were getting nearer all the time.

_Popeye the Chosen One. _

He quite liked the sound of that.

…

Anna raced up the stairs as fast as she could, and, to her great surprise, managed to not trip on her dress at all on the way. She had no time to feel particularly proud of herself, though, as she had just heard terrible gossip from one of the servants and **had **to make sure that it wasn't true.

Once reaching the top of the stairs, she danced around several servants, maids, and guards, all bustling around doing their daily work and stuttering a quick "Apologies, Your Highness" when she almost ran into them. She'd apologize to them at a less urgent time, but, for now, nothing could slow her down.

Finally, she approached Elsa's room. Not bothering to knock, she instead opened the door and bolted in. There, she found Elsa packing several bags of luggage. Elsa looked at Anna in shock at her sweating, hyperventilating and clearly frenzied state.

"Are you alright, Ann-" she began to ask, only to be cut off by her sister.

"How **could **you?! Your people need you and instead of helping them, you're running away? What are you thinking, Elsa? How can you justify this...this...**horrid **choice?"

Elsa sighed and calmly set down the clothing that she was folding to put into the plain green suitcase in front of her on her bed.

"Anna, please, you must understand. This was not an easy choice for me. However, it is _because _of how much my people need me that I'm leaving. I cannot adequately defend my Kingdom in my current condition. My illness must be stopped, or at the very least slowed down," she took a pause.

Anna wasted no time in taking advantage of that pause, "But, Elsa, the doctor clearly said that it can't be treated or cured! You're in denial. I understand that it's hard for you to accept this, but you must stop acting rashly and start...**thinking **about what it is you're doing!"

A small frown began to form on Elsa's face, but she forced it off and took a deep breath. "Let me finish., Anna. I believe that my powers will allow me to fight off this disease. However, I can't figure it out on my own. That is why I'm leaving. I must visit the Trolls and learn how to do what I wish from Pabbie. He can teach me. I just know he can."

Anna began to stutter and pace around desperately. "But, but, even if you do succeed, you'll never do it before the pirates reach Arendelle!"

Elsa closed her eyes with a pained look on her face before responding.

"I-I know. That's why...I'm leaving _you _in charge, Anna. Arendelle's defense rests in your hands until I return."

Anna yelped in shock. "Me? **Me? **But..I don't even know the first _thing _about running a kingdom, let alone defending it from invaders! Have you gone crazy?!"

Elsa walked over to Anna and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Relax, Anna. Arendelle has some of the best advisers in the entire world. They will help you through this. And besides, you don't have enough faith in yourself. I've seen what you can do firsthand. You will make an excellent leader in my absence."

And with that, Elsa returned to packing. Anna simply stood stationary, absolutely dumbfounded for the duration. Once finished, Elsa asked the servants to take her luggage to the carriage. Once the last suitcase was gone, Anna finally spoke, shaking.

"I-I don't want you to go, Elsa."

Elsa gave a small smile and quickly hugged Anna, who, after a moment, hugged her sister back. They broke apart and Elsa smiled once again at Anna, who tried to return the gesture, but could only stop herself from crying.

"I'll be back as soon as I possibly can, Anna. I promise. You have nothing to worry about," Elsa said, before walking out the door and heading for the stairs. Anna remained where she stood, completely frozen in place.

_Me. In charge. How am I going to do this? **How?!**_


End file.
